


Your Walls

by ClumsyEdge



Category: One Piece
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nakamaship, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:58:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4085821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClumsyEdge/pseuds/ClumsyEdge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zeff’s death takes a greater toll on Sanji than he wants people to believe. There isn’t time for him to grieve after all. There are people who need him to be strong. The Straw Hat Pirates have long since separated, but once nakama, always nakama. Sanji should remember that whatever the load, he needn’t bear it all alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Walls

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing anything for this couple but I'm completely smitten with them so it was bound to happen sooner or later. I'm also a sucker for future-fics, so here ya go!
> 
> Any constructive criticism is always appreciated.
> 
> Please enjoy!

The sadness that welled in him was profound but somewhat numb. His heart thudded heavily in his chest, its steady beats a constant reminder of the life flowing through his veins. It was cool, but not too cold, the wind almost non-existent and the night near-silent. Small waves lapped gently at the floating restaurant’s timber hull, accompanied only by the soft sniffling of the crew aboard. The staff of the Baratie stood aligned on her west deck in various states of sorrow. On the horizon, aflame with colours to match the sunset sky, Zeff’s final voyage slowly burned to cinders.

Sanji stood at the forefront of the group in solemn silence, watching his mentor’s ship stain the otherwise cloudless sky with a plume of dark smoke. He brought a half-burned cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply. Its smoke streamed smoothly down his throat, a soothing caress against his lungs. His free hand curled loosely in the pocket of his dress pants, his posture slumped as he languidly exhaled in one long, continuous tendril. The smoke hovered in the air before him for a moment, dancing briefly before dispersing. Leaning against the wooden railing, his half-lidded eyes surveyed the scene before him. The setting sun dipped low in the sky, shining upon an ocean of gentle, glittering waves.

He took another deep drag from his cigarette and closed his eyes. He felt very little; it had been this way since the old man’s passing a day ago. It hadn’t been a sudden death; Zeff had been ill and frail for weeks. It was an unpleasant and almost unnatural sight to watch his violent and gruff mentor deteriorate into a state of such fragility. Seeing him like that had brought back dark memories of a desolate rock, of having no food and almost no water. Sanji barely slept, worrying himself halfway to his own grave.

When it happened, however, it was almost comically inconspicuous. Sanji had been sitting at the old man’s bedside, detailing for the nth time his adventures at sea. With nothing else to do, Zeff grew uncharacteristically fond of listening. Sanji talked about the Grand Line, the islands he visited, the people he met, the battles he fought and won. He described the Going Merry and her sister, the Thousand Sunny, both a part of his beloved family. He spoke of a boy who stretched like rubber, a girl who could navigate through the roughest seas, a brave warrior who could shoot any target, a swordsman with ridiculous moss-green hair, a woman who could sprout limbs from any surface, an adorable doctor who could cure any ailment, a shipwright who was half-machine and a musician who was no longer alive but could never die. They were his crew, his family, his _nakama_.

It had been approximately 20 years since he’d first met Zeff, a little more than 10 since he’d first set off to pursue his dream and 5 since he'd found All Blue. He talked about All Blue – the mysterious ocean he’d found on the last legs of his adventures, which had been both of their dreams for so many years – and he watched his old man’s eyes shine, even beneath the layers of fatigue. It was the most he’d ever spoken to Zeff in his whole life, and the longest the man had ever listened to him without kicking him or shouting. Neither of them were overly fond of sharing their feelings with each other after all. Then, he’d left for a moment to go grab a glass of water and, when he’d returned, Zeff had been still.

He knew what he was supposed to feel; he knew the feeling of grief. Grief was like an ever-present pain that twisted in the pit of your stomach. It pulsed from intense pangs at times, to a dulled throb at others. Grief was like being emotionally waterlogged. Everyday life took a huge amount of effort; it was tiring to get up in the mornings, painful to remember things past. Every breath into your working lungs was like a taunt to remind you of what you’d lost. That was grief. Grief was powerful. What he felt now though – a coiled tense, restlessness – was barely more than grief’s breath. It was like a dam – his emotions plugged up and festering in some secluded part of his consciousness, not being allowed to flow. He hadn't cried. He wouldn't, not yet.

He stood beside Patty, the larger man’s sobs wracking his entire frame. To the man’s right, Carne reached out a shaky hand and grasped his friend’s arm firmly in support. His own expression though, was anguished. Sanji nodded at them both when they looked at him, offering a tiny, reassuring smile. But this only caused them to cry harder.

Yes, Sanji thought as he watched the two men sob openly, they needed him now; the restaurant needed him now. He could mourn later, when the crew was stronger and had worked through their own sadness. Later, he would mourn for the father he thought he’d never meet, but really already had. Now, though, he needed to be head chef of the Baratie.

“Sanji-san…” One of his older chefs called, his voice thick. It was obvious the man had been crying recently. Sanji turned his head slightly to acknowledge he’d heard the man’s beckoning. “There’s someone here to see you.”

Wondering who on earth had the nerve to come calling upon him today of all days, he turned with a scowl on his face and a number of sharp words on the tip of tongue. He almost spun right back around when he saw green hair and swords. In fact, the only reason he’d not yet done so was because he caught a flash of yellow straw hanging from the man’s neck. A flurry of worry made his heart rate spike. Why was that hat here when its owner wasn’t?

Zoro stared back at him steadily. His posture was relaxed but his eyes sharp. Sanji felt the weight of the other man’s assessing gaze, searching for signs of physical or emotional distress. It was a habit the entire crew had adopted after being split up one too many times during battle, so that they knew who to cover if needed. Sanji did the same, taking in the new but fully healed scar at the man’s collarbone through the open front of his kimono, the lines that had begun to deepen around his eyes and mouth, the shorter hair. Zoro stood strong and sure, looking older but completely well.

A long-suppressed longing and pain pulsed through him and his mouth turned downward into a displeased frown. Looking a bit surprised by Sanji’s less-than-warm welcome, the swordsman meandered his way through the staff. Meanwhile, Sanji turned back to the ocean. Zoro’s presence had completely thrown him off kilter. Why was he here?

Memories of their last moments together all those years ago flashed through his mind. Talks of diverging paths and differing desires. Images of a fight that had left them both much worse for wear and soft murmurs of their plans for the future in the aftermath. Then afterward, longing glances but a wide berth, agreements that it was better this way. It was purely physical, he’d told himself. It shouldn’t have hurt so much; it shouldn’t have hurt at all. His heart ached and suddenly, Sanji wasn’t sure if he could deal with this right now.

Zoro came to stand at his side without a sound. Sanji didn’t acknowledge him, continuing to puff at his cigarette without sparing him a glance. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed his crew move away from them, some retreating inside, some simply giving them some privacy. He was touched by their consideration, even with the rather undesirable situation. He worked to keep his face blank and his posture slack, despite the mess of emotions he now felt.

“He seemed like a great man.” Zoro said suddenly.

“He was.” Sanji replied.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

The formality made Sanji twitch in annoyance.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, crushing the butt of his cigarette beneath his shoe. “Shouldn’t you be off gallivanting around the world, accepting challenges from the up-and-coming and training on mountain tops?”

“I don’t train on-” Zoro began, but seeing Sanji was still not looking at him, grunted and changed tactics. “I was close by when I heard what happened.”

Sanji snorted dryly, no real menace in the action but still carrying a hint of bitterness.

“You didn’t need to come,” Sanji said.

“You need us,” was Zoro’s simple reply. Sanji didn’t fail to notice his choice of words. Another pang of longing shot through him, though this time it was for a much larger group of people. He allowed himself to feel this one fully; he missed them all.  
  
“Who needs you?” Sanji bit back, tone sharp.

Zoro didn’t rise to the bait though, another indicator of the time which had passed. Sanji exhaled slowly and, with his breath, all urges to challenge the man left him. He felt the swordsman touch his arm, fingers curling around his wrist and tugging gently. Despite it all, his heart wrenched at the close proximity and the warmth of the hold against his wrist. Sanji turned and looked at Zoro finally.

“Hey,” Zoro said softly, “I know what you’re doing, shitty-cook.”

Sanji raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

Zoro’s brow knitted together in what Sanji recognised as worry. On Zoro’s face, it always looked more like a scowl though. People often misread his expressions, believing them to be far more sinister than they actually were. Walking around with only one eye open and a long scar running down the left plane of his face didn’t help either.

“I’ve seen you do this before. You think you need to be strong because everyone else is relying on you.” Zoro explained with a frown, his grip loosening and dropping back to his side. Sanji mourned the loss for only a split second. “You don’t always have to do everything alone, you know.”

Sanji remained silent. Zoro was right, of course, but it would take a lot more than that to get him to admit it aloud. Besides, this was different. It wasn’t a small ship of friends he needed to be strong for now, it was an entire establishment.

“This restaurant needs me. _They_ need me.” Sanji implored, gesturing to the restaurant. Zoro wouldn’t understand, not when the swordsman always only had himself, and at times the crew, to care for. It was different. “I’m head chef now. My crew looks to me for guidance. I can’t guide them when I’m tucked up in bed sobbing my eyes out can I?”

Zoro looked about to argue but before he could speak, Sanji turned away.

“Look, I appreciate the fact that you’ve taken the time to come see me, but I’m sure the world’s greatest swordsman has better things to do with his time.” Sanji attempted to walk away but Zoro’s hand was suddenly back on his arm, his grip tighter this time.

“You’re bottling up your emotions.” Zoro insisted gruffly, holding onto Sanji with a vice-like grip.

This time, Sanji attempted to wrench his arm away but Zoro’s grip didn’t budge and Sanji felt his temper flare.

“Stop being so stubborn, idiot.” Zoro said.

His irritation spiked. How dare he? How dare a man he hadn’t seen or heard a word from for five long years saunter back into his life and talk about him as if he knew what this was: what he was feeling. Sanji ignored the little voice at the back of his head insisting that Zoro was nakama. He probably knew far more about Sanji than all of the staff here combined.

“Let go,” he growled.

When Zoro adamantly refused to budge, Sanji twisted his body in one fluid motion and brought a foot to the swordsman’s face. His shoe didn’t hit flesh – though Sanji had hardly expected it to – instead connecting with the clear steel of Kitetsu. Zoro looked a little stunned at the sudden attack, but had the sense to block all of Sanji’s following assaults. The chef had no intentions of stopping there, launching kick after kick at the other man. Zoro soon had Shusui out of her sheath too, guarding.

“You’re angry.” Zoro noted when Sanji paused to regain his bearings for a moment. Sanji wanted to roll his eyes. Instead, the chef kicked another flurry. Of course, all of his attacks were blocked almost too easily.

“Damn right I am. Who the hell do you think you are?” Sanji retorted sharply, knowing that he was overreacting but not caring enough to stop. Fighting with Zoro was inevitable whenever they crossed paths, in Sanji’s opinion. That was one thing that would never change.

“I’d hoped you wouldn’t have forgotten my face after only five years.” Zoro’s lips slid into an unimpressed frown, though he held a familiar battle-ready glint in his eyes. “Are you sure you’re not going senile?”

Sanji’s brow twitched before he let loose another round of lightning-fast kicks. Zoro dodged and blocked, looking like he was having slightly more trouble than before, but still moving easily.

The Baratie’s crew had backed off further now, some of them looking on in shock, others looking alert. The more senior chefs, the ones who had been here when he’d met Luffy for the very first time, were preventing the other chefs from picking up weapons and joining the fray. They, at least, knew this was a fight that Sanji needed.

“You. Stupid. Marimo.” Sanji shouted, punctuating each word with a sharp kick. “Why you, of all people?”

“Ah, so you do remember.” Zoro said, blocking each kick. “That’s a relief. I thought I was gonna have to call in Chopper.”

“You’re hilarious.” Sanji growled.

Zoro jumped to the railing and used it to propel himself over the top of Sanji’s head as the cook swept into a low kick. The swordsman had barely landed when Sanji twisted into another attack.

“I told you,” Zoro said as he pushed through Sanji’s kick, Kitetsu catching the bottom of the chef’s pants and slicing a clean stripe of fabric from it. “I was close by.”

Sanji flipped backwards a few times, putting space between them. Zoro didn’t hesitate, darting forward swiftly to strike. Shusui struck the heel of Sanji’s shoe with a clang.

They stood like that for a moment, sword to foot, pushing against each other, neither giving in. It gave Sanji a chance to study Zoro’s face more closely. The idiot was barely breaking a sweat, damn him. Sanji saw Zoro’s eyes dart to his left foot when he shifted his weight subtly. Of course the bastard would notice something so small. By the time Sanji arched backward to bring his other foot into an upward kick, Zoro was already gone. Sanji cursed internally as his body followed the momentum of the kick; he had left himself wide open.

Several things happened at once. His legs swung in an arc and touched the ground behind him just as Shusui found her way to his throat, black steel iridescent in the dimming light. Sanji stood panting, the razor-sharp blade mere millimetres from breaking skin. He could feel the warmth of Zoro’s body behind him, the hand on his sword steady and unflinching. It was a complete defeat and after a moment more of battle-induced buzz, Sanji felt his entire body drain of adrenaline.

“You’re out of shape, love-cook.” Zoro said softly, breath tickling the nape of Sanji’s neck.

“Are you going to keep me here all night?” Sanji asked in response, suddenly weary.

“That depends,” Zoro replied, adjusting his grip so that Shusui glinted ominously, “Are you going to attack me again?”

“I won’t.” Sanji said and Shusui was gone. He pulled out a cigarette as he heard both swords return to their sheaths. Zoro came around to stand in front of him, eyeing him carefully.

Sanji stared hard back at him. He needed to get something straight.

“Don’t give me any of that ‘I was close by’ bullshit. I know you tend to stay within the Grand Line.” Sanji growled, though with less ire than he originally intended. Zoro grimaced a little nonetheless, looking very much like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Well actually, I came to East Blue a few months ago.” Zoro admitted awkwardly, averting his eyes. “I…heard about Zeff’s illness.”  

Sanji wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but this certainly wasn’t it. His hand paused, holding the cigarette mid-way to his mouth. For all of the deadly power and skill contained in his carefully honed body, Zoro sometimes seemed so uncomfortable with emotional matters. It was charming, but Sanji would rather die than ever admit that aloud.

“You-why would you…” Sanji began, but paused when Zoro shot him an incredulous look.

“Why do you think?” Zoro said, looking annoyed for a second. Then, his face smoothed and he stepped closer. “Luffy’s worried about you too, you know.”

Sanji’s eyes widened, gaze flickering to the straw hat still resting on Zoro’s back. The unlit cigarette dropped from his fingers, forgotten.

“Luffy! Is he okay?” Sanji asked, the panic from early returning all of a sudden. “Why do you have his hat?”

“Stop worrying so much. He’s fine.” Zoro replied as he pulled the hat from his neck. He reached over to place it on Sanji’s head, pushing it low over the chef’s eyes.

Sanji bowed his head with the action, biting his lip to stop it from trembling. He had tried _so hard_ to control himself. He had wanted to be strong for his crew. But Zoro’s presence – though he’d loath to admit it – collapsed his defences in a way only 8 people in this entire world could. His throat constricted and his eyes began to prickle as he reached up to touch straw. This whole situation was suddenly too much. It was all _too much._

“I met up with him a few days ago. It seems like he’s gotten himself into some kind of trouble, as usual. He sent me on ahead of him.” Zoro tapped the brim of the hat lightly. “He said to hang onto this for him. He’ll be here to pick it up soon.”

Sanji felt his heart swell with affection for his former captain even as the first tears began to fall from his eyes. All of a sudden it was as if the dam had broken. Sorrow so intense surged through him, it felt almost like a physical punch to his gut. It encased him suddenly and all at once, pulling a strangled gasp from him. He mourned for the loss of Zeff. He mourned for the way he’d watched Zeff die, slowly and over so many weeks. He mourned for the nakama he so sorely missed. He let himself grieve.

His knees weakened at the sudden weight of his emotions, and almost instantly felt steady hands grip his arms in support. His entire frame wracked with wet, wheezing sobs; he probably looked a real sight. Zoro’s touch left his arms to wrap easily around his waist, pulling him close with an ease that made Sanji’s heart ache even more. He allowed himself to slot into the other man’s hold, dropping his forehead to a warm shoulder as waves of anguish flowed through him. This was weeks upon weeks of pent up emotion he was feeling now. Weeks of watching the only father-like figure he’d ever known, gradually rot away before his eyes. Weeks of constant worry, stress and hopelessness, all converging into this single moment of intense despair. Sanji brought his own hands up, gripping the back of the man’s kimono and pulling himself closer. As he wept, gentle fingers carded through the hair at his neck.

Zoro sent a reassuring look over to the remaining members of the Baratie’s crew. The staff, who looked even sadder at the sight of their head chef’s tears, nodded and trailed indoors, leaving them alone on the deck. The swordsman tucked his chin into the crook of Sanji’s neck, feeling the tremors in the cook’s body.

Minutes passed, Sanji’s sobbing loud in the otherwise quiet night. They stood like that for a while, Zoro simply holding him as Sanji wet his shoulder with tears. The sun had sunk completely below the horizon by now, the air cooling uncomfortably against their skin.

Eventually, Sanji’s sobbing quietened and his body stopped shaking so violently. Zoro slid his hands down to the chef’s hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles against his hipbone. Sanji revelled in the familiar touch, the scent of salt and steel he’d memorised from all their intimate nights together. He wondered briefly if doing this was breaking the agreement they’d made with each other, but soon decided he didn’t care so much anymore. He’d been through so much pain recently. Any small haven he could have, and however brief, he wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of, consequences be damned. Right now, he needed this. He wouldn’t properly grieve otherwise, and it seemed Zoro knew it too.

“It was wrong seeing him so weak.” Sanji spoke, his throat raspy from tears. “That wasn’t how it was supposed to be.”

Zoro hummed softly and continued to rub soothingly at his hips.

“He was supposed to die fighting, or in an accident at sea. Not of some stupid sickness,” Sanji continued, his voice tightening, “I’ve never seen him so frail, not since…he almost starved.”

“That shitty old man.” Sanji’s voice broke as he spoke this, and then he went silent again for a long moment.

Sanji turned his head so that his cheek now rested comfortably against the other man’s shoulder and stared silently at the side of Zoro’s head. Three golden earrings glittered dimly in the little remaining light.

Eventually he pulled back but when he did, neither of them let go completely. Zoro’s hands still rested on Sanji’s hips and Sanji’s hands had slid to Zoro’s waist.

“Look at me. Zeff would laugh if he could see me now.” Sanji said, wiping at his eyes. “I’m fairly sure I got snot all over your shoulder.”

Zoro snorted softly.

“You did. I’m never wearing this thing again,” he said, but his lips were upturned slightly.

Sanji rolled his eyes but blushed slightly, feeling suddenly embarrassed by this whole situation.

“Tell anyone about this and I will kick your ass back to the Grand Line. Got it, moss ball?” Sanji threatened, to which Zoro simply raised an eyebrow.

“You do realise I won that fight just now right?” Zoro asked. “I really doubt you can kick my ass anywhere as you are now.”

“So I’m a bit rusty.” Sanji admitted. He definitely did not pout. “I’ve been too busy to train lately, and it’s not like anyone comes to pick a fight with me anymore.”

It was true. Being recognised as part of the Pirate King’s crew and having such a hefty bounty on his head seemed to deter any potential ruffians from boarding the Baratie with ill intent. Of course, with managing the kitchen and taking care of Zeff, he’d had no time to practise alone either. His lightening mood darkened a little at the thought.

“So you’re admitting that I’m better than you?” Zoro asked, smirking. Sanji felt the darkness recede, replaced with the familiar urge to kick Zoro in the face, which he resisted. Just.

“I’m admitting that you’re a muscle-head who has no responsibilities other than to his sword.” Sanji replied primly. “I run a restaurant, you know?”

“Excuses,” Zoro said dismissively.

“You’re infuriating.” Sanji sighed.

“I know.”

Zoro’s hands tightened at his hips, a smile rising to his lips. Sanji was taken aback by the expression; Zoro’s smiles were few and far between after all. Smirks and grins he knew well, smiles not so much. Then, before Sanji could react, Zoro pulled him close, nudged Luffy’s hat up and kissed him.

Sanji was sure he tasted like snot and tears but Zoro kissed him with vigour. His lips moved much the same as they had always moved: with purpose and power. Sanji returned the kiss a little clumsily but without hesitation, his mouth sliding open to accommodate Zoro’s talented tongue. When the swordsman bit softly on his bottom lip, Sanji’s breath hitched. He had missed this.

“We decided not to do this anymore.” Sanji pointed out, words brushing against Zoro’s lips when they parted for breath.

“Yeah, we did.” Zoro replied but he made no move to pull away. “Do you still think it’s a bad idea?”

Sanji stared into the other’s eyes, seeing the question in them. He could still pull away if he wanted. Zoro had taken the first step and was now letting him choose. It wasn’t hard; the decision took barely a second.

“It’s probably not a very good idea,” Sanji said and watched in fascination as Zoro’s brow furrowed in surprise, “But then again, when has that ever stopped us before?”

There it was again, Zoro’s smile. Sanji wasn’t sure what had happened in the last five years that made Zoro decide to start smiling at him suddenly, but Sanji sure wasn’t complaining. He grinned in return, feeling the coldness within him from the past few weeks slowly start to defrost. Infuriating as he was at times, Zoro still understood him more than most.

“Stay.” The word left Sanji’s mouth before he could stop himself. Though, once he’d said it, Sanji found he meant it.

Zoro looked surprised for a moment, but then his features softened.

“Yeah. For a while, yeah.”

Sanji knew what this meant: Zoro would stay until Luffy arrived, and then perhaps for a little while after that too. He would stay until he was sure Sanji was grieving healthily, but then, he would leave again. All teasing aside, Zoro really did gallivant the world; staying in one place for too long would make him antsy. So however long Zoro decided to stay, it would be enough, at least until they met again. Sanji knew it wouldn’t be another 5 years until they saw each other, because Zoro had a reason to return now.

Sanji inhaled deeply and glanced to the dark horizon, spotting the diminishing flames of Zeff’s ship. His heart was heavy and he felt both physically and emotionally exhausted, but at least he wasn’t numb anymore. If he wasn’t numb, then he could heal. It would take some time, but he’d be okay. His heart throbbed and he felt a stray tear slide from the corner of his eye. When had that got there?

The swordsman massaged gently at the small of his back. Having not said anything for a while, he noticed Zoro staring at him again worriedly.

“You alright?” Zoro asked.

In the cold night air, Zoro was warm and comfortable.

“No,” Sanji said truthfully, brushing the tear away and smiling at the sea, “But I will be.”

 


End file.
